


That Wild Music

by Vortaesthetic



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, Prophecies and shit, Religion, Resurrection, life and death, tripping balls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vortaesthetic/pseuds/Vortaesthetic
Summary: Weyoun 6 died in Odo's arms on the Rio Grande. Now he's very much alive. And there is no reasonable explanation why. A miracle was performed that day. But by whom and to what end?





	That Wild Music

**That Wild Music**

Reigndeer Games

_Redbreast, early in the morning_  
Dank and cold and cloudy grey,  
Wildly tender is thy music,  
Chasing angry thought away.  
My heart is not enraptured now,  
My eyes are full of tears,  
And constant sorrow on my brow  
Has done the work of years.  
It was not hope that wrecked at once  
The spirit's calm in storm,  
But a long life of solitude,  
Hopes quenched and rising thoughts subdued,  
A bleak November's calm.  
What woke it then? A little child  
Strayed from its father's cottage door,  
And in the hour of moonlight wild  
Laid lonely on the desert moor.  
I heard it then, you heard it too,  
And seraph sweet it sang to you;  
But like the shriek of misery  
That wild, wild music wailed to me 

_Redbreast, Early in the Morning by Emily Bronte_

+++

“You have my gratitude...and my blessing.”

The storm of pain in Weyoun's soul calmed instantly at Odo's blessing. The fear, the doubt, the terror; all of it vanished as if it had never existed. How blessed was he, a mere vassal, that he breathe his last in the merciful embrace of his god? Warmth billowed in his soul as he gazed up at Odo, as his lungs deflated for the last time, as his heart paused and his vision faded out. There was no longer any place in his spirit for fear. He could drift to the afterlife with no regret.

_I am complete._

_I am finished._

_Thank you._

His breast fell and did not rise again. His heart stuttered to a stop. His last coherent thought was gratitude and contentment as the world faded out. His vision was awash in white and his body burned with a golden fire; his bones, his flesh, his soul consumed as kindling to light the path to the beyond.

It was beautiful.

It was terrifying.

Mercifully brief, the enormity of everything calmed into a numb, quiet nothing. His spirit sank to the depths of the dark, finding a cool, quiet center to be his resting haven. Time passed and his astral eyes closed.

His soul slept for eons.

In the dreamless dark, there is no greater peace.

–

Something was happening.

Awareness found him slowly in this intangible, anchorless sea. Something had roused him, but he could not tell what it was.

He was suspended in a dark ether. He could feel nothing, he could see nothing, but he knew instinctively that there was a disturbance. What had shaken him from his slumber had done so for a reason.

Dimly, he became aware of a soft pressure building in the center of him, a gentle but growing, insistent. Every time he attempted to drift off, the pressure would return, waking him again.

He became aware of a strange sensation, an echo rippling gently through the void around him. It took him an age to remember it as sound. Unintelligible snatches of sound filtered through the silence about him, fluttering around his consciousness like falling leaves; gentle, insubstantial.

The pressure grew more insistent, the space around him starting to shake with the force. Pain lanced through his being, a writhing, twisting, nastiness that split the fog of darkness around him. Stars and nebula hung suspended around his head like a mobile, orbiting him and him alone.

A strange pull in the pit of him caused him to look down. He was moving, falling in slow motion as gravity once again surged into being and exerted its force on him, pulling him down through space. Far beneath his feet and edging ever closer, a brilliant point of light surrounded by a ghostly halo of stellar ejecta swirled like a churning sea.

Faster and faster he fell, the pain burning brighter, the crashing echo getting louder, confusion taking hold of him like heavy gravity as he neared the glowing core.

_I am scared._

He was close now, slipping in. He knew not what awaited him on the other side, if this was the portent of damnation or the ascent of angels. Before he could dwell any further, he stopped. 

A hand of solid light reached out of the blazing golden core, coalescing from cosmic rays. It reached out to him, beckoning him to enter.

 _The path is not yet finished,_ the echoes chanted to him.

 _I am afraid. Is this not death? I am over,_ cried Weyoun.

 _Fear does not end your path. The Vorta must finish the journey,_ the voices told him.

The ghostly hand grabbed him by the forearm and hauled him into its' spectral being, where his sight was overrun with a tide of everything. The world exploded; it was washed out in white and everything was a loud, crashing and painful chaotic swarm. His chest and his head hurt terribly. He could not open his eyes.

He was to weather that terrible storm again, not knowing why. But he was certain that his suffering would be for a grander purpose. And it would all make sense in the end.


End file.
